I don't belong here
by dance life away
Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions. rated for language. COMPLETE!
1. i'm a creep

**I DON'T BELONG HERE: INTRO**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

This is my strange attempt at an introduction for this story. I am absolutely fascinated by Peter Pettigrew, always have been, and I've spent a lot of time thinking about the question "who was Wormtail?" and how that translates into a fic. This is going to be a collection of moments and insights in the life of one Peter Pettigrew to imagine just how a guy goes from being best friends with some of the most beloved members of the HPverse to emerge as one of the most hated and poorly depicted characters in said 'verse. If you think the intro is weird, it's okay, I do too...just keep going and maybe (hopefully) it gets better.

* * *

I don't care if it hurts  
I want to have control  
I want a perfect body  
I want a perfect soul  
I want you to notice when I'm not around  
You're so fucking special  
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here

-Radiohead, "Creep"

* * *

_"Hero-worshipped Black and Potter. Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him... Stupid boy... Foolish boy..."_

-Minerva McGonnagal, 1993

_"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine…. I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me — He — he was taking over everywhere! Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?"_  
-Peter Pettigrew, 1994

Peter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, tag-along, and rat. Except there is always _so much more_.

Especially for those born under the Hawthorn Tree - they're never what they appear to be. They definitely put that ever-popular phrase about never judging a book by its cover to the test. On the outside is the average person living an average life...but on the inside is a person who has that kind of burning desire and passion, that inexhaustible flame, that would scare most people. And for kids like Peter, who live most of their average lives keeping those flames quiet because your life teaches you all sorts of things about yourself that are hurtful, painful, and dangerous...well, they get the short end of the stick, you see. The world is always telling you who you are and never lets you stick up for yourself and say otherwise and so kids like Peter Pettigrew often end up becoming nothing _more_ no matter how much it kills them.

Except Peter. Who would ever think he would become an exception? Not him. But no one ever prepares you for the consequences, the realities, the costs. Never tells you that things go horribly wrong and that when your mum used to say "you've made your bed, now you've got to lie in it," she meant it.

But once you take a step back, and another, and another, and another - once you can see the whole picture - things make more sense in that they don't make sense at all. Petty questions like "why me?" have answers like "why _not_ you?" When you can see in four dimensions, once you have total access to the past, present, and the future, a comfortable fatalism develops. Every domino, every link in every chain, is laid before your eyes and suddenly, you realize...

**there is no past. there is no future. there is not even a present. there just ****_is. _**

and so it goes.


	2. gold dust woman

**I DON'T BELONG HERE**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

Rock on- gold dust woman  
Take your silver spoon  
And dig your grave  
Heartless challenge  
Pick your path and I'll pray

* * *

_Midsummer's Eve, 1966_

April Pettigrew loves stories; she makes it her business to learn all about the myths and stories of the world and incorporate them into her life, piece by piece. She's a particularly superstitious woman as consequence, but that's something she's always been. Whether or not stories are true is unimportant - she tells them and thereby they become true. Did she really hear the clicking of the death beetle the day the men in black came to her door and told her that her husband, Adam, died on the job? Her brave, moral Adam who loved the world so much he died to protect it...her Adam who never knew his son because she found out about her pregnancy the week after his death. So she tells her son stories: stories about his father, about the world, about people. She sits him on her knee and he stares at her with wide eyes as she weaves all sorts of myths together before his very eyes.

"On this day," she began. "The veils between worlds are thin. Not like Halloween, dear, when the veil between the world of the dead and the world of the living. On this, the longest day of the year, the veil between our world and the world of the fairies and the gods is barely there."

On days like Midsummer's eve - Halloween, May Day, and others - her stories are more fantastical than ever. Peter thinks his mum is the prettiest woman in the entire world, and thinks her words are law and her stores the best. She didn't call them stories, though; "only the truth, Peter," she would say when he asked. Her voice is soft and slow and sweet, and it lulls him and pulls him all at once. The way she talks about Midsummer's Eve and the Garden of Eden are all the same, the same way she talks about his dad. So it is all the same, just like she says. It is all truth.

"On Midsummer's Eve, you have to be careful. Because fairies and gods are different than us - if you run into them, truth and lies might as well be the same thing. Good and evil, too. They'll play a trick on you, and it might be the most terrifying thing but they'll only laugh. They don't have the same time we do, Peter. God time is different. It's easy to get lost then."

"How will I find my way home, then?" young Peter asks, eyes wide as he stares at his mother. With the moonlight streaming through the window and the power of her voice, he thinks rather foolishly that his mother has to be a goddess. That makes him the luckiest boy in the world, though, doesn't it? To have one of the gods as his mother. It makes him special in a way the other kids can't ever understand. Right?

"You have to find your star, Peter. Look up in the sky and the one that twinkles the brightest, the most steady of them all, and that's your star. Find it and follow it, and it will lead you home."

Later, Peter finds his stars - his adopted brothers. But what his mum doesn't tell him then is that sometimes you lose your star and don't even know it; you become the Adam who chooses exile and a woman and sin over an eternity in the Garden with Father. So it goes.


	3. soy un perdedor

**I DON'T BELONG HERE**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

Soy un perdedor  
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?  
(Double-barrel buckshot)  
Soy un perdidor  
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

-Beck, "Loser"

* * *

Adam Pettigrew was Peter's dad. He was an Auror, brave and strong and proud. He had a wife named April, Peter's mum, and they loved each other so much that it hurt. But on the day April found out she was pregnant with their first child, the man in black showed up at the door. She'd been dreading that man ever since she started to have feelings for Adam, because he meant her husband was gone. Dead. Such a strange concept, to simply not exist anymore. But it's what happens - people die, and they don't exist, and the only way you can keep them alive is through memories and sharing those memories, so that's what April did.

Peter doesn't remember his dad; the man died before he was even born, so there aren't even the fuzziest of memories. But he grew up hearing stories every night of what a great man he was. That's all his mum ever talked about..."your dad" this and "your dad" that. When he was a kid, he wanted to grow up and be him, work for the Ministry and be an auror and save lives. Just like his dad. So maybe some day a nice, pretty woman would be telling their kids stories about him, or maybe he'd be alive to tell them himself. But as time went on, it became increasingly clear that Pete would never be that man.

You see, at first, Mrs. Pettigrew anxiously awaited Pete's first sign of magic. And waited, and waited, and waited. There was a span of two years in which she was terrified he was actually a squib. What would she do with a son like that? It's easy to love your son when you think he has a world full of possibilities, but not so much when you're afraid he's going to be a failure. A nobody. Especially when your sisters have children who are increasingly bright and talented. Especially when there's nothing remarkable about your family in the first place except that they are pureblood. Pete was a good kid, though, and that made it easier. He was so eager to please, so desperate to be loved, so excited to go to Hogwarts and learn magic. So she tried, she really did. She tried to teach him fundamentals of how things worked, the basics. He seemed to catch on with things like Potions and Herbology. He liked to keep her company in the garden, things like that. Never exceptional at it, but he seemed excited and so she let him enjoy it.

To her great joy and relief, Peter finally showed signs of magic at age ten-just in time. He always tried to play with the other kids in their neighborhood, all magical, but they liked to snub the weird kid who all the adults whispered about to each other, the kid who they all assumed was going to turn out a squib. The other kids liked to tease him, pretend they wanted to play with him and then leaving him somewhere. It happened a lot. But one day, Peter'd had enough. He could hearthem laughing, and it was just too much. The last nerve of a ten year-old who was tired of the laughs and at being the butt of all their jokes. Let's play hide and seek, they said. It'll be fun, they said. They always did this, he was reluctant, but they promised this time that they wouldn't leave him. And just like before he believed them, because Peter wanted to believe people. He wanted to believe they liked him, finally. But as he was counting to ten, he could hear them laughing, and he snapped. Peter stopped mid-count and shouted "olly-olly-oxen free" except it was so loud the entire neighborhood could hear him. His mum could hear him three blocks away, the kids who were running away from him heard it and stilled. That's right, Peter was magic, and it surprised everyone and the other kids looked at him in a new way. He wasn't a freak anymore. Now he was just like the rest of them, he thought, and they would treat him that way. Except they didn't. Because he was still Peter Pettigrew, the kid who helped his mum out in the garden and she was his best friend, all proud of him now to boot. Nobody whispered about him anymore, none of them talked about him at all anymore. Ordinary. And he hated it more than he did being the weird one. He wasn't talented, not like his cousins, he'd taken forever to show magic, the kid who was shy and stuttered but you could just tell wanted friends but didn't know how the make them. There was nothing special about him. Nothing at all. Not even the bad kind of special. It wasn't_ fair_. He wanted to be special, wanted to be extraordinary, wanted to be remarkable. Wanted to be his dad.

Here's the thing: We all know kids like Peter growing up. There's one in every primary class, one in every high school, sometimes even one in every household. This is them: they are small, they are weak. They feel vulnerable. They don't speak up when they see bullies, and they don't say anything when their friends bully them. They just want to be liked. They just want to feel like they belong. So you have to ask yourself what it means to be accepted- what it means to find your star. Why good people do bad things? Where potential goes...Because we like to try and make sense of things, but what about a life really makes sense? Or that maybe sometimes it has nothing to do with what other people do but instead what lies deep within us, buried away until we are knocked about just right and it falls off the shelf, ready to be found.

When it comes down to it, Peter is kid who is uncomfortable in his own skin. He's desperate to belong. But more than that, he wants to fly. And yet...he's ordinary. _Ordinary_. Defined as commonplace, standard, bearing no special or distinctive features. If you looked it up in a dictionary, you'd probably find a picture of Peter Pettigrew, right there in the book. But you probably wouldn't notice it, because that's how it's always been. _Ordinary_. It's the worst word in the dictionary. It's a word that haunts Peter, has haunted him all his life. Because that's what he is...commonplace, standard, and bearing no special or distinctive features. And he can never forget it. Nobody will let him.

So it goes.


	4. who wrote holden caulfield?

I DON'T BELONG HERE

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

There's a boy who fogs his world and now he's getting lazy  
There's no motivation and frustration makes him crazy  
He makes a plan to take a stand but always ends up sitting.  
Someone help him up or he's gonna end up quitting

-Greenday, "Who Wrote Holden Caulfield?"

* * *

_September 1st, 1971_

On the train to Hogwarts, Pete sits by himself. It seemed like even though he should have gotten a fresh start, nothing was going to change. The random group he sat with on the way across the lake chattered to each other, but barely seemed to notice he was in the boat with them at all, and he didn't know what to say. How to speak up. He still stuttered then, especially when he was nervous, even though he was trying so hard to break the habit. By the time he was part of the anxious line of first years, Pete felt disheartened. It looked like Hogwarts was going to be just like everywhere else. He'd be a Hufflepuff, he knew it, the house everybody cracked jokes at. His dad had been a Gryffindor - it was where he wanted to be but how could he end up there? By a miracle, maybe, but even that was a stretch.

But then his name is called. Shaking, he walks up, sits on the stool, and a hat that is clearly too big is promptly plopped down on his head. All Pete can see is darkness, and the sounds of the hall have been drowned out by an unconquerable silence that unnerves the eleven year-old:

_"I see potential in you, the too-big-for-his-head hat told him, much to his surprise. It breaks the silence in two. Now where to put you? Potential is universal, you know...Ravenclaw won't do, oh no. Not that kind of potential. Hufflepuff won't challenge you at all."_ Peter breathed a sigh of relief at that. _"Slytherin...not a complete impossibility. You've got the blood for it, you could do well there - fly under the radar. But no...that won't do, either. Gryffindor, maybe... His heart sped up in anticipation. Yes, Gryffindor could do you well. You just need the right encouragement, I think. A little appreciation. You are a good kid, with a good heart. Yes, I see it in you. The potential to be everything of it at its best. GRYFFINDOR!_

* * *

At first, the encouragement and appreciation the Hat spoke of does not come. He falls into the crowd of Gryffindor first years quietly, watching everything - taking it in. He is a good and patient observer. Listening is easy...unlike boys he share a dorm with aren't like him at all. They seem so much cooler than Peter; two of them are loud and boisterous, and the other is more quiet, a little odd, but they seem to like him and he's still cooler than him. They aren't mean to him or anything, but for the most part they don't pay much attention to quiet little Peter Pettigrew. Except, that is, for James Potter, the boy with the glasses and the wild dark hair. James is...nice. Peter watches, that first week or two or so. And the more he watches, the more he admires the Potter boy. He just exudes this confidence that Pete is so jealous of. So happy, you know? He wants to be like that.

Meanwhile, as always, there are people who manage to single Pete out to tease. And also as always, he doesn't do a very good job standing up to them. He just isn't confident, cool, and happy like his dorm-mates. Instead, he is scared - what kind of Gryffindor is that? Pete feels so ashamed of himself for being frightened of the other students when they tease him. He sits and takes it quietly, like he always has, thumbs twiddling, trying not to be pathetic and cry. There must be something about him, he figures, that makes people treat him like this. He just isn't sure what it is. Is there some sign over his head that flashes the words "I'm an easy target!" or is it written into every part of his body?

James Potter goes from being just nice to Pete's idol when he decides to play hero one day, him and Sirius Black. In the face of older students, they stand up for him the way he doesn't know how to do for himself. And even though Pete gets the feeling that they find him a little annoying from time to time, they are kind to him. They try to be his friends and he is amazed that for some reason, a guy like James and his equally cool friends seem to take a shine to him. They take him under their wing, and for the first time, Pete feels like he actually has friend. _Real _friends. And not just any friends, either.

See, as the only child of a widow, Pete has never known what is is like to have brothers. He doesn't know what it is like to have friends who aren't his mother or who only keep him around to make fun of him. But this is different. _They_ are different. He can't shake the feeling that they are his brothers - they accept each other. The boys certainly aren't a band of kids with perfect lives, you understand. Peter has a dead dad and so much inside of him that he can't be; Remus is a werewolf for fuck's sake (as they would all later find out); Sirius comes from a terrible family that hates him more and more each day; James is in love with a girl who hates his guts. They all have their own unique problems, and in some ways they are mismatched, but somehow it seems to work out anyway. Their dorm room becomes a sacred space, a place for secrets to be shared in confidence and memories made.

1st year, in the dormitory, James Potter makes them all swear they'll be best mates forever. 2nd year, in the dormitory, the three of them confront Remus about these monthly "visits to his mum" that happen to fall every month on the full moon. 3rd year, in the dormitory, Sirius the impenetrable bastion of emotion reveals what really goes on at his house, and James mentions "running away" for the first time. 4th year, in the dormitory, Peter tells everyone about his dad, which is hard for him, because he has to admit that he wants to be so much more than he is. 5th year, in the dormitory, the four of them work diligently, sometimes failing, to figure out this whole Animagus potion challenge. Remus reading from the book as James, Sirius, and Peter carefully stew the stolen ingredients and hide them under Sirius's bed during the day. In the dormitory, 6th year, they complete the Marauder's Map and sign it with their nicknames. Because that's what they are - Marauders. _Brothers_. They let each other in on their biggest secrets and their lives. They trust each other. And that is irreplaceable.

Becoming a Marauder does wonders for Pete's confidence. He's still Peter Pettigrew, of course - still wants to be part of things and belongs and wants desperately to be more than he is. He knows his scores won't be good enough to get into the Auror program, his mum's dream and his too, but he comes to terms with it. That is how Pete handles things - accepts reality and moves on. Otherwise, he knows he'd be miserable all the time.

Pete isn't stupid, but professors are harsh with him because he falls behind easily and struggles in class. He knows what they think of him, can _feel _their disappointment when they look at him. Isn't it their job, though, to teach students? Not just the smart ones, but the average ones and less than average and the struggling and the stupid? He hates being singled out in class and put on the spot - makes him freeze right up, get nervous, and even his old stutter comes out despite the fact that he hasn't stuttered regularly since first year. He's not completely inept though, so he wishes they'd stop making him feel more dumb than he already is. When it's just his friends, he doesn't have such a hard time with magic, at all. Even though there's that bit of him that wants to do well, it's not overwhelming like in class or on tests. It's relaxed, doesn't make him feel terribly nervous or self conscious, and that makes all the difference. He's managed to become an Animagus, after all, and that wasn't easy, so he couldn't be that stupid, right? Pete just doesn't work well under pressure and he can't perform well when nervous.

People don't notice him very often, for example. He is much more a behind-the-scenes guy. Social situations have a habit of getting the better of him; it doesn't help, of course, that he's in the shadow of his friends' limelight a lot of the time. Pete knows he'll never be that kid who stands out. There are still plenty of traces of the Peter Pettigrew whom nobody ever liked; sometimes he just laughs too loud at people's jokes, says inappropriate things, misses people's verbal and nonverbal cues. But Pete has learned, adapted as always, to work within how people think of him. Pete's gotten good at surviving over the years, and doesn't spend a lot of time dreaming or anything like that. Not anymore. He plays to his strengths. He's much more of a behind-the-scenes type of guy anyway. So while he's easily amused by lesser pranks and jokes, you can bet he's always volunteered to be behind many of the Marauders' bigger ones, Because that's him, always wanting to be a part of things. In a lot of ways, Pete is the perpetual middle man, the arranger. Not the planner, not always the executor, but the person who you can rely on to make sure things are ready to happen. Not the type of guy to be at the heart of the fight, and rarely the instigator, he'll be by his friends' sides helping them stand their ground. Even if he isn't the most talented when it comes to things like duels, he admires his friends' abilities and is more likely to `wait until the right moment than jump straight in. So he's not brave in that traditional, reckless, Gryffindor way, but the Sorting Hat saw something in him that he never did: he could be his own kind of brave, and that was good enough.

But there is one thing he can't let go of: the desire for everyone to stop underestimating him.

His professors do it, his classmates, sometimes even his brothers. They never give him enough credit and it just isn't fair. He's not just some tag along, not some charity project, not some invalid or imbecile. But people don't see that, do they? They never do and they never will.

And it kills him.


	5. come as you are

I DON'T BELONG HERE

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

Come as you are  
As you were  
As I want you to be  
As a friend, as a friend  
As an old enemy

-Nirvana, "Come As You Are"

* * *

**_November, 1975_**

They are assembled in a hallway; it's dark because it's after curfew and they really aren't allowed to be out. And yet there they are anyway, Marauders doing their thing. Peter loves the rush of being with his friends, being included in the pranks, having a job to do.

"Peter," Sirius says. "Make sure no one is gonna interrupt us."

"Aye, Cap'n!" he says with a grin. Feeling silly, feeling fun, Peter's hand goes stiffly up to his forehead and back out quickly and a little sloppily. For a minute it's hard to tell what he's done. His friends give him a set of weird looks.

"Did he just salute you, Padfoot?" James asks, laughing, and Sirius responds by straightening himself an trying to look as authoritarian as possible. He also has a habit of looking more than a bit smug, and it has seemed to magnify.

"Don't let it go to your head," Remus contributes, rolling his eyes at their antics. Ah, Remus, their quiet and inconsistent voice of reason. Well, at least he tried to be. But none of them were perfect, were they?

* * *

**_June, 1976_**

James' parents are away and they are drunk. Peter has convinced his mum to let him go, even though she's always really clingy. Which he gets...sort of. Peter doesn't know where James and Remus are off to - but then he seems them zip past the window. He's pretty sure they are naked and jumping into the pond there, which will terrify all the neighbors, he is sure. It is only a few weeks after the end of term, Sirius has only just run away. Sirius is very drunk.

"Prongs thinks he's so cool. You know, with his...antlers? and hooves and shit." Sirius is rambling, making strange gestures with his hands. Peter laughs, his face scrunching up.

"I think his antlers are pretty cool, man," he says, thinking they are cooler than a rat's tail, which is all he has.

"Fuck you, Pettigrew," Sirius replies, and Peter can't tell if he's angry or just dicking around. He hopes he is just dicking around. "Being a dog is...a hundred thousand times cooler than being a stupid deer."

"Err...well, if you think so," Peter slurs, rolling his eyes and laughing again. Sirius and glaring at him, and mumbles shut up but it only makes Peter laugh harder. That's when Sirius leans over and shoves him. Peter loses his balance, the alcohol you know, and lands on his ass on the floor. He's still laughing. Remus runs through the kitchen, where they are, at that moment, naked as the day he was born, cackling. Which is kind of scary. As soon as he's there, he's gone. Sirius looks to the spot where Moony stood, to Peter, to the spot, and then to Peter again. He cracks a smile and laughs too.

* * *

**_August, 1977_**

Sirius gets his own flat and Pete is torn between jealous and awe. He wishes he had his own place, one where his mum can't constantly hover over him and smother him. He is always trying to figure out how to get out of the house. So when it is announced that Sirius' new flat is "open for business," to Pete, it is like Christmas in July. Unfortunately he's also directionally challenged, he could get lost walking home from his own grandparents' house in the dark (that did actually happen one time...), a place he's been a thousand times, so it's inevitable that he gets lost and ends up knocking on the wrong door. Somehow he has mixed up 16 and 19 or something and is now being faced by an angry old lady shouting at him and whacking him with her purse. Real lovely and just his luck! After stammering out a few unintelligible words, he promptly turns and sprints in the right direction to knock frantically at the correct door.

"Open up man, i'm about to be decapitated by someone's lunatic grandma!" he shouts, watching as the woman bumbles down the hallway shouting obscenities at him. Well, wasn't she just a sweet old lady on the outside and a sailor on the inside? Pete hopes his grandmother doesn't curse like that when he isn't around. That would just be...strange. Pete gets tired of waiting as the menacing, heavy purse that he is pretty sure could possibly give him a concussion, swung ever closer. He jiggles the door handle and thanks ever deity he's ever heard of when he realises Sirius hasn't locked his door in the first place and quickly ducks inside to see Remus shrugging off his jacket inside.

"Oh, uh, hey," he says in greeting, heart thumping a million miles a minute and basically confirming that Peter Pettigrew had just been scared of someone so old they had probably keeled over before they reached the door; so badass, right? "You've got some barmy neighbors, Sirius,"

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs, a barking sound.

"Don't bad mouth Mrs. Cunningham like that, she makes me muffins and gives me the best shortbread biscuits ever," he says sternly, and Pete gapes like a fish. He doesn't think an angry and very scary old lady chasing him down the hall with her massive purse (probably filled with rocks and bowling balls and shit) was a very funny affair. Try _traumatising_. His friends, however, seemed to think otherwise. What a bunch of dicks. They wouldn't be laughing so hard if it were them being chased, now would they? Angry grandmothers are not a fucking laughing matter, you know? He secretly wishes a pox upon them all. Or at least that one of them will get to fuck up to his amusement every now and then instead of the other way around, which was the way life seemed to work most of the time. The trials and tribulations of being Peter Pettigrew - maybe one day he'll write a novel about it.

"She makes you muffins?" he asks, skeptical. "Sure she hasn't been lacing those with arsenic or something, mate?"

"Yes she makes me muffins!" Sirius snaps back, grinning. "She says I'm just as charming as ever. I trust her with her muffins. She could probably smell you down the hall, Pete, just like I can. Did you too get an odd wiff of cheese and dead flowers, Moony?"

"Clearly she's gone off the deep end if she finds you charming, Padfoot," Pete jokes. "Har har, you're so witty. Would you like a medal?"

He knows he is easy picking, the butt of his friends' jokes. Well, mostly Sirius' jokes, because that what their relationship was like. But he could joke too! Pete speaks that language just as well as they do, even if people don't always expect him to be funny. Sirius just...he's always saying shit about how it is his job to mess with Pete. And, after all, Sirius is the one with the actual brother (okay, so it's Regulus, but still), so he probably knows better than Pete how that stuff works. As if he ever had friends growing up, so Pete doesn't know any better and is grateful for what he has. He laughs then, because Sirius states that yes, in fact, he does want a medal, so get crackin'. Pete rolls his eyes - Sirius would.

"Oh yeah, hold on, just let me pull out of my back pocket," he deadpans, reaching around as if he were actually about to do just that, but when his hand comes back around, he promptly flips his friend two very rude fingers, accompanied by a self-satisfied grin.

See? Two could play this game.


	6. stand inside your love

**I DON'T BELONG HERE**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

you and me  
meant to be  
immutable  
impossible  
it's destiny  
pure lunacy  
incalculable  
inseparable

and for the last time  
you're everything that i want and asked for  
you're all that i dream

-Smashing Pumpkins, "Stand Inside Your Love"

* * *

_**February 1978**_

Peter Pettigrew feels like one giant ball of really nervous energy navigating his way through Hogwarts. His ultimate goal is the library even though he's taking the most round about way possible. _this is all so stupid_, he thinks, as he tries to get the cold, clammy sweat off his hands by wiping them on his pants. Why did girls make him so nervous? Why did this girl in particular make it even worse than all the others? And why, in the name of every witch and wizard on every single chocolate frog card, had he thought asking her for help on his schoolwork was a smart move? Clearly, this was why he needed help, because his decisions make it obvious that he is anything but bright. Pete thinks he is such a fucking idiot and he wants to slam his head against the stone wall at this moment. But at the time he asks her, it doesn't seem stupid. Imogen is a fellow seventh year, and a Ravenclaw, and she is so smart...and sweet, and pretty. Pete has been practically in love with her for a couple years now but hasn't told a soul. No, not even the other Marauders - because he knows they will poke fun at him and inevitably try and get the two of them together, which he knows would be an absolute disaster. There is no reason a girl like her will ever be interested in a guy like him; it would be cruel to get his hopes up, you know? Expectations were bad. But if you didn't have any, it didn't matter how things eventually turned out because you weren't expecting anything in the first place. That's Peter's life philosophy and it has saved him from a lot of disappointment over the years. Well, it's a filter for disappointment - inevitably he does get disappointed and let down and all that stuff but his philosophy of low expectations being key to life greatly reduces the overall amount of those things that he experiences.

At the least minute, Pete remembers being late is incredibly rude, especially when he is the one who asked _her_ to meet _him_ and having her think he is a complete jerk was worse than having her think he's a sweaty weirdo. Which he is. Obviously neither of them are ideal circumstances but one is definitely better than the other. So he gives himself a mental peptalk, albeit a poor one, as he half-runs through the corridors. When he reaches the library, she is already there, sitting at one of the tables by herself with a few books spread out about her. Trying not to look like a complete idiot, Pete forces his legs to move and they carry him right over.

"Hey," he says, before silently commending himself for his obvious brilliance and eloquent communications skills."Thanks for...you know, being willing to help me out."

"No problem, Peter," she says with a smile and his heart melts a bit. Fucking embarrassing. "So what is it we're working on today?"

The way his breath catches in his throat and his heart beats that much faster is already all kinds of pathetic and its the way he always feels around Immy (all girls make him nervous but with her it's even worse). More intense, maybe. He wonders if she knows how pretty she is, how smart. If she has any idea at all about the way he sees her...ugh, she makes him feel completely stupid and incapable but giddy at the same time. But none of that compares to his reaction when she asks him what they're working on because he _hasn't even thought about that_. Oh shit. Talk about embarrassing. His brain fumbles as it tries to come up with one of his assignments. Merlin, she probably thinks he is stupid. For the record, it should be noted that Pete hasn't actually asked her for help with his coursework just because he needs help. Okay, so he can always use some help with that, but honestly, there are plenty of people he normally asks first. But then an uncharacteristically good idea came to him one day like a flash of lightning! Ask Immy. Because he just never knows how to approach her or just talk with her without it being strange or random. But this? It was a socially acceptable and normal way for him to interact with her casually, which was what he has wanted all along. Unfortunately, he had not forseen all the ways he could possibly mess it up. _Good one, Pettigrew. Real Smooth._

"The...erm...charms assignment?" he says weakly, naming the first class that pops into his head and he then reachse over into his bag, rummaging through it to find the parchment on which he scribbled all his homework in nearly unreadable chickenscratch. He is totally pulling this straight out of his arse. Obviously, his brilliant plan is not actually as brilliant as originally thought. Pete makes a mental note to definitely not tell the guys about this one.

"You know, this one," Pete continues, pointing to the note on the page. "About that quintessence book he assigned us. The fifth essence or whatever and how it applies to theory. I, er, don't even know where to start."

_Nice save,_ he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Now if he could just keep from mucking up anymore for the rest of the hour. Good luck with that, right?

* * *

Pete doesn't know it then but Imogen _does _like him. His confidence, or really the lack thereof, means he never tells her how he feels because he could never imagine she does feel the same way. It just wouldn't be logical, you know? He's Peter Pettigrew - considered practically a lackey by some and a charity case by others. He's not good at school and by all appearances, not entirely bright. He's a bit prickly too, at times, with his cynicism and self-deprecating attitude. So why, even in his wildest of dreams, could he have thought Imogen would ever like him too?

He doesn't find out until later. Later being _too late_, actually, when they have all graduated and its summer time and Pete knows Immy feels like her world is wide open, a flower just coming into bloom with the promise of sunshine and warmth ahead. She takes a job working for Werewolf Support Services; Pete learns, as they become friends and not a boy who likes a girl but can't talk to her, Immy's father is a werewolf so she's passionate about that sort of stuff. He, on the other hand, takes a rank and file job in the Ministry because what else is available to him? In August she starts dating a guy from her department. She and Pete are hanging out one day, because he is still pathetically and desperately in love with Imogen Green and wants to be around her even if it just means being friends (he settles himself for that second best a long time ago) when she tells him something that squeezes his sad, sorry little heart in a vicegrip. He's asked her what she likes about him (the other guy, of course, not himself), and that sort of thing. They are a little drunk which is probably why she says this:

"I guess he's my type, Pete. I mean, I like the quiet, unassuming guys. It's why I liked you for a while, actually," he must be giving her a shocked, disbelieving look because she follows it up. "Oh don't laugh, okay? I did! But since you obviously didn't like me too, I got over it. Anyway, so when he asked me on a date, I said yes. We had fun so it became a second, and well, you know how it goes."

Except no, he doesn't know how it goes. Because he's only wanted to date her for like the past three years and _she had liked him_? Her words of "since you obviously didn't like me too, I got over it" play over and over in his head and they turn into this haunting chorus of self-hate. Fuck, he really was an idiot, wasn't he? But now there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

So it goes.

* * *

UPDATE! Go me. Couldn't find where I saved this for like a bunch of weeks. Too many "untitled documents" in my google drive. But obvs I found it. yay!

so this would have been finished today - I finished this and the last two chapters. except I accidentally deleted all my work on the next chapter. which was a long one. BALLS. And I really can't bring myself to rewrite it all right now - too pissed at myself for being an idiot (just like peter, sigh).


	7. since i changed my name

**I DON'T BELONG HERE**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

* * *

I couldn't sleep last night  
My ears were ringing in my head  
Best friends with the boogey man  
I may be better off here dead  
I'm running on empty once again  
Too tired for tears I dread  
Sink deep into those magic dreams  
While I blast off in my bed

And you know I've played it all in here  
Where everyone hides their darkest shades of fears  
And I threw my whole night down the drain  
You know 'cause everyone says that I'm not the same  
Since I changed my name...

-Sugarcult, "I Changed My Name"

* * *

**_Early August 1980_**

Without his friends, Peter feels like he's a boat adrift with no anchor. Especially these days when the paranoia seems to overtake him. This war...it's driving him crazy. He joined the Order out of school because it was what his friends did. And yeah, he believes in the cause. But his friends can't keep their heads down, don't know how to be sly. It's the Gryffindor in them, he supposes. Maybe Pete isn't such a great Gryffindor after all, then, because now that the fight is in full swing, the only thing he can think about is his own life.

His friends tell him the paranoia is natural._ It's survival instinct, Pete, don't let it eat you,_ Remus tells him. But Peter knows it is more than that. He sees shadows everywhere, feels people watching him. They know he's in the Order, they'd be daft not to. They know who his friends are. And one day all his suspicions are proved right. They corner him, threaten him, and no one is around to defend him anymore. What hope does he have of keeping himself safe? The order isn't enough, Dumbledore isn't enough, it seems. Once it starts, it never stops.

"I don't know about all this, Avery," he says, backed into a wall by the taller, stronger, older man. The man who has been cornering him for the past few weeks, trying to manipulate him.

"Listen, Pettigrew: I get it. You don't want to join the so-called 'dark side.' I expect that from you. But let me assure you that's not what everyone says and you'd be unwise to keep turning us away." Peter doesn't say anything, and as the muggle phrase goes, he is quite literally shaking in his boots. Blood purism means nothing to him. He won't betray his friends for that. But his life? He isn't sure anymore. He definitely isn't sure when Avery pulls out his wand and mutters a curse Peter doesn't recognize. All of a sudden he's doubled over in pain and looking down, the skin of his arms is bulging like there is something moving underneath it. He feels like he is going to be sick. It is over as quickly as it started.

"It might even cost you your life someday," Avery remarks casually, twirling his wand as if he just put a cheering charm on Peter, not some dark curse that could get him sent to Azkaban.

"And if I accepted your offer? What then?" Peter asks, breathless and still on his knees.

"Time will tell, won't it?"

* * *

Pete doesn't plan for Sirius to confront him. Well he doesn't expect that day, at least, right then. He doesn't want to listen to his friend - well, ex friend - accusations and anger, his violence. It's only out of sheer dumb luck which strikes him like lightning that he comes up with the idea that will save his life. Without a second thought he cuts off his own finger, and damn it hurts but that's life, right? After transforming, he scurries down the nearest drain. Pete lives as a rat for a while, eating garbage and fighting with other rats and all the other things vermin do. It's a lonely life and he starts to miss people, even his miserably clingy mum. His mum who weeps because she thinks her only son is dead but at least she thinks he died a hero. She looks at his posthumously awarded Order of Merlin, First Class with pride (how she never looked at him when he was alive) and keeps it on the mantle like her most prized possession. Sometimes he checks in on her, but he stops after a while. He can't stand looking at that medal because he knows he's not a hero, just a rat, so that's how he stays.

One day he gets tired to the sewers and finds himself wandering a field instead. Suddenly there's this tall, redheaded kid who nearly stomps on his head and starts chasing him around the field like a madman. He squeals and squirms as the kid picks him up, rushing off to his home, screaming "Mum! Look what I found! Can I keep him, please mum? Please?"

Yeah, he's never listening to those lightning-bolt ideas because they suck.

Of all the shit, really? Pete doesn't want to be some family's pet, especially when he recognises the mum as the sister of some guys he was in school with. Molly Prewett was her name, or at least, now it was Molly Weasley. But he guesses being a pet isn't too terrible - after all, he gets fed and it might not be as a feast but it sure as hell beats garbage.

Right?

* * *

_**May 1994**_

Peter - Wormtail - Scabbers (whatever his name is these days, he really isn't sure) always figured that if anyone could escape Azkaban, it would be Sirius. But he never actually thinks it will happen, or that both Remus and Sirius will be at Hogwarts at the same time, or that Crookshanks, the menace of a cat-devil-Kneazle, will be the end for him. His plans were really to live out the rest of his days as Scabbers, the Weasley pet rat, and when he one day kicked the bucket they'd bury him in the backyard or something. But it all goes awry and he really can't wrap his head around the fact that he will not, in fact, be buried in the backyard of the Burrow or anything even close to it. So much for _that_ plan.

They force him to transform and it's one of the most painful experiences of his life. Maybe it was because of the spell, or maybe because he hasn't assumed human form in twelve, long years, but his bones creak, cracking violently as they rearranged themselves, and his insides burn as they grow and change. And then he is Peter Pettigrew again, in the flesh, and doesn't recgonise the feel of his own body anymore. He wonders, for a minute, what he looks like as a middle-aged man, but figures it can't be very pretty since he hasn't had a proper bath in nearly thirteen years.

"S—Sirius…R—Remus…" Pete croaks out; his tongue feels awkward in his mouth and even his voice sounds different than he remembers."My friends…my old friends…"

But no, they aren't his friends anymore and what follows pretty much confirms it. It doesn't surprise him, of course; it's what he would have expected if he'd expected this to happen at all. The only thing on his mind is how to get the fuck out and stay alive. If that means he has to forfeit his dignity, than so be it. Not that he has much left to lose, if any at all. Being a family pet tends to do that. He doesn't care what he has to do or say, but he is _not_ dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, of all the goddamned places, at the hands on his former friends. Pete will be damned before he lets it happen -he hasn't spent the past twelve years eating lettuce and rat food and being terroised by a band of Weasley children to die like this.

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," says Sirius. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter…They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them…I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information…and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up  
in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter —"

These are all the things he hadn't wanted to hear twelve years ago and he sure as hell doesn't want to hear them now. He doesn't want to listen to Sirius rant about things he doesn't - can't _ever_ - understand.

"How dare you," Sirius growls. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter — I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us…me and Remus…and James…"

No, no, no. Sirius doesn't know anything! Anything at all. He can pretend but he is plain wrong. If he really remembers things that way then it is because he's had years in Azkaban to come up with a way to explain the past. People might have seen Pete as the tag-along, the charity case, but that had never been true. They were _brothers_, damnit, and as much as Sirius wants to dismiss him - say they hadn't ever really liked him, that he hadn't been trustworthy, that he'd only hung around them because he wanted powerful friends, that he hadn't been one of them - it's all a lie. What an easy thing to forget, that he and James were always particular about their friends.

But Peter remembers.

He remembers so clearly the way he couldn't believe guys like James and Sirius were nice to him and how James wanted to be his friend. Pete remembers how lucky he'd felt in the way they'd taken a liking to his shy, awkward, always-getting-picked-on self. Maybe it is easier for Sirius to think of him as a spy from the start, but easier doesn't make it true.

"I thought it was the perfect plan…a bluff…Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you…It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

The best moment of his miserable life? He can't help it that he's mumbling words about Sirius' lunacy. As if it had been his plan all along to join the Death Eaters, take the mark! As if he had been born heartless! Pete doesn't have a "finest moment of his miserable life" but he had always done what he had to in order to survive. It used to mean letting the other kids pick on him instead of standing up for himself, and even now Pete can't stand up for himself. He's never been able to do that. He probably never will.

"You never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You  
weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…"

His mouth opens and closes, so close to speaking the words that are in his head. Maybe they think he's nervous, which he is, but that's not it. It's not that he can't think of anything to say. It's that, in this moment, it takes every ounce of self-control not to just scream. Plain and simple he is angry - no, not angry. He's furious. Furious that Sirius can suggest he's been scheming all this time, as if he was _ever_ a schemer! For someone so 'talentless' and 'weak,' Sirius is sure giving him a lot of credit. Pete didn't go into hiding because of Voldemort's followers, not because of anything like that. He didn't _choose_ the Weasleys or choose to be anyone's family pet. It was never like that. It still isn't about that. It's about the fact that he couldn't look at that stupid Order of Merlin, First Class on his mum's mantle without feeling sick; it's about the fact that he couldn't have sat across from Remus, talking to him and sharing their grief or whatever, knowing that he'd done it all; it is about the fact that he'd blown it in life when he'd been too terrified and sold his friends out to save his own life...and after that, with the Dark Lord gone, there'd been nothing left. He still doesn't have anything left. come to think of it.

So it goes.

"Believe me," Sirius spits out, full of emotion, and Pete can't look anywhere in his direction because it's too terrible and awful. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

Yes, Sirius would never have betrayed James and Lily. Yes, Sirius would have died. But Sirius had never been Peter and Peter had never been Sirius. Sirius didn't and doesn't know what it is like to be the eternal disappointment to himself and everyone he cares about, to have to teach himself to never have dreams, to have everyone pity and laugh at him his entire life. It is nothing for him to say he would have died because they didn't come after him like they did Peter. If Sirius thought something or someone was a threat, then people listened. They always listened to him, right now they are listening to him, and they take him seriously now like everybody always did when they were in school.

Nobody here takes Peter seriously, they look at him like he's a piece of garbage and even the kid whose pocket he's practically lived in for years won't let Pete come near him now. They see him as the villain. They judge him without knowing him, without even trying to understand. But...there is one person that he hopes _might_ and that is Harry. Harry James Potter, who is the best of both of his parents. And James was the only one who ever tried so maybe Harry will too. He ignores the shouting from Sirius, the rage, and hopes that Harry will look at Peter with mercy and compassion in the same way his father once did.

"Harry," he whispers, shuffling towards him. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed…James would have understood, Harry…he would have shown me mercy…"

When Sirius asks him, straight forward, if he denies what he has done, Peter cannot.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord…you have no idea…he has weapons you can't imagine…I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me —"

Maybe it is finally his turn, maybe he can finally explain. Maybe they will finally listen, he thinks, and so Pete finds himself bursting into tears because all these years it has been inside him with no way to get out. Maybe they can forgive him and remember that he was never brave like his friends and he hadn't been left with a choice. But instead his words are met with more accusations. The idea that he'd been a spy all along, for even a whole year prior to that fateful Halloween night...how far-fetched, how crazy! No, that is wrong. It is wrong, wrong, wrong, so painfully and horrifically wrong because it wasn't until August of 1980 that he finally gave in. He'd tried but he was weak, is weak, will probably always be weak and they knew it which was why they'd picked him to single out.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roars Sirius, so loud it seems like the world is shaking. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Sirius is right. Pete should have died, but he hadn't, and there is no changing it now. What is done is done! A sneaking voice in the back of his head whispers that they would not have died for him. They say so now but he always wondered, always doubted. As if he hadn't told them time and time again that the Death Eaters were watching him, following him - as if _they_, his so-called friends, hadn't dismissed him then as they now dismiss him in this very moment. He accepts that he is going to die, then, when Remus says 'goodbye.' Pete wants to spit in his face, but he doesn't. There's no use now because he has tried to explain but they won't listen.

And in the end he doesn't care that Harry chooses to spare his life this way, not out of compassion, but for justice. It doesn't mean, though, that Pete is about to let himself be taken and given the Dementor's Kiss with so little effort. He is not about to give up, even though he is bound and gagged. Maybe he was ready to die a minute ago but now he isn't. If they take him into custody, Sirius will be free and that is not something Pete is going to let him have so easily. You see, Sirius is not the only one who has been a prisoner since 1980. Pete has been too - a prisoner in body, trapped as a rat; a prisoner to guilt and to fear.

So when the moonlight hits Remus and he begins to transform, Pete sees the chaos as an opportunity and without a thought becomes the rat again, scurrying off into the night and into a semi-freedom. He doesn't decide right away that he will seek out Lord Voldemort, half dead and in hiding, but it is a conclusion he comes to eventually. Where else is there for him to go? Who else will have him?

So it goes...yeah, so it fucking goes.

* * *

one more chapter to go, guys!


	8. black hole sun

**I DON'T BELONG HERE**

Summary: Petter Pettigrew: Stupid boy, foolish boy, coward, hero-worshipper, and rat. Except there is always so much more. A look into Peter's life, because fanfic authors are quite like Vonnegut's Tralfamadorians - we see in four dimensions.

disclaimer: as per usual I own nothing. surprise!

FINAL CHAPTER GUISE OH MY GOSH

* * *

In my eyes, indisposed,  
In disguises no one knows.  
Hides the face, lies the snake,  
And the sun in my disgrace.  
Boiling heat, summer stench.  
'Neath the black the sky looks dead.  
Call my name through the cream,  
And I'll hear you scream again.

Black hole sun won't you come and wash away the rain?  
Black hole sun, won't you come?  
Won't you come?  
Won't you come?

-Soundgarden, "Black Hole Sun"

* * *

"You're going to kill me? After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"

Peter stills then, with his silvery, metal hand still on Harry Potter's throat. In that moment, it isn't Harry in front of him. It is James - oh James, the boy he'd idolised, who believed in him. The young man and brother he'd betrayed to save his own skin. That decision, the one he'd been rationalising ever since he made it that still haunts him all the time. The decision he can't ever change. He traded brotherhood for what? A silver hand? It hadn't been perfect, of course not, because nothing ever was or ever is but they were the best times of his entire life and he doesn't even notice his grip loosen until Harry wrenches free. He is weak and he's always known it - he can't bring himself to do this.

And then the most frightening thing of all happens - his hand, which the Dark Lord has given him, betrays him. It moves toward him without his will, reaching to wrap itself around his own throat.

* * *

Peter is acutely aware of his own vulnerability, his own weakness. He understands that he is awkward, not very confident, who feels lost a lot of the time even amongst his friends. Looking at him, he doesn't seem the type for things like betrayal. He'd certainly never see it in himself.

It's the paranoia that always gets him. It's the paranoia that does him in. The nagging sense all his life that even though they called him a brother, that he wasn't one of them. Paranoid that as time went on and they weren't spending every waking moment with him that they were just trying to leave him out. That when it came down to it he was just the rat they needed to get the job done at the Whomping Willow. If he were to look at it objectively, it wasn't like that, but that's paranoia, isn't it? Distorts reality. Makes you believe things that aren't true. Makes you believe in the extreme.

So it goes.

They didn't listen to him, see. He always told them they were so damned loud, so bright. He told them he would have sworn the Death Eaters were watching him. That he'd started seeing shadows where everyone else said there were none. But they dismissed him. They wouldn't listen, they took too many chances. And they dragged Peter down with them, even though they knew. They knew he was weaker, knew he was scared. And his fear overwhelmed him, his fear of death and and of pain. His fear of the glittering red eyes. They hadn't protected him. They put him at risk...and then they trusted him with secrets he didn't want to know.

It comes full circle, Peter supposes. He's not sure how, but he's sure it does. Sure it will. It has to. They were his friends, after all. His brothers. They failed him, he failed, the Dark Lord would fail. They would all die. Full circle. Looking in his reflection, things don't make as much sense as they used to. Time's funny that way, he supposes. Paranoia, too. Fear and loyalty and betrayal, words that he doesn't want to remember. Truth and beauty are wonderful words. And yet...when it all does come full circle, Peter is alone with the things he has done.

* * *

It does come full circle, in the end. Peter Alan Pettigrew, Wormtail, Scabbers the Rat, Spy and Betrayer... is betrayed by his own body. A fitting end, he supposes, as he struggles while he gasps for air that will not fill his lungs. As he struggles, ever more weakly and slowly because the life is draining out of him.

The last thing he sees is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley trying to save his measly, pathetic life and it is a small mercy, a sight worth seeing. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anything. But he is given this, which tastes a little bit like forgiveness (or is that the taste of death? Hard to tell). Truth be told, he's kind of glad. Better this than facing the Dark Lord's wrath. Better this than anything else that might have awaited him.

Better this, that his last act is refusing to kill the son of his dead best friend, who lived as an orphan because of him. For one shining, glorious moment, Peter Pettigrew is proud of himself. It's like he has finally stood up to something, or someone, and that someone is him. Inadvertently, but still. The part of him that used to be Pete the Marauder, the part of him that was Pete the son of an Auror and a hero, the little part of him that the Sorting Hat saw all those years ago came out of the darkness and into the sun and the last sound he hears is a scream but that's okay.

Better this indeed.

His body is left there, on the floor. Later it gets mutilated by the other Death Eaters when they find it, hand wrapped around its own throat, a testament to his final betrayal. To them it is disgusting, but to him, it meant that even for one subconscious moment, he was not a coward.

* * *

Dead. It's a strange thing to be. For a while, he's alone with what he's done. Apparently there is a purgatory, which is better than eternity spent in hell. It's his lament for everything that he's done and everything he ever failed to become. But it's that small but persevering shining in the darkness part of Pete that saves him.

Pete does get to fly, eventually. It's all he ever wanted, to be the golden hawk instead of the awkward kid, the rat. He flies and it is so beautiful he cries, but not as much as the sight of his brothers, his friends, his tormentors, his sin...the sight of them waiting for him when he does. It is more than he ever could have dreamed. He doesn't deserve it, but he doesn't complain, either.

Damnit though, Sirius still teases him. Some things, it seems, really never do change.

* * *

"All my life I always wanted to fly. I always wanted to live like a hawk. I know you're not supposed to be jealous of anything, but... to take flight, to soar above everything and everyone, now that's living. But a hawk is no good around normal birds. It can't fit in. Even though all the other birds probably wanna be hawks; they hate him for what they can't be. Proud. Powerful. Determined. Dark. Odin is a hawk. He soars above us. He can fly. One of these days, everyone's gonna pay attention to me. Because I'm gonna fly too.

**-Hugo, "O"**

* * *

FINFINFINFINFIN!


End file.
